


The Memoir of Captain Sinclair - An American Story

by ceruleus0, ckatoshfo



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-04-25 09:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22289014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleus0/pseuds/ceruleus0, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ckatoshfo/pseuds/ckatoshfo





	The Memoir of Captain Sinclair - An American Story

The child was only a couple months old. He was like a mound of bones, and his tender skin was sore from writhing in his own piss. The whole nursery smelled like stale piss. He let out a thin wail for hours under the fluorescent lights dimly lighting the room, only pausing when his voice cracked from fatigue. An old nurse was the only one working the shift that night, and she was already tending to another child. Day after day of tending to the children has drained her of all her patience, and she cursed under her breath. No matter how much care was poured into the children, there was always more screaming and piss.

The orphanage was run by Baptist missionaries, near an American military base. In the eyes of the church, all children were legitimate. However in a country like this, no one wanted a bastard - let alone a mixed child of unknown ancestry. The locals resented the foreign soldiers, and began mugging them at any opportunity. The Americans continued going to the bars despite being warned not to stay out late at night, and there was still plenty of fucking. So the sickly child, among many like him, were found in the woods, in the streets, or simply dropped off at the nursery building at dawn. Hence, there was always the noise of children in the nursery. The child did not have a name yet, as the doctor was expecting him to die. It was possible that he may not make it to his scheduled baptism next month.  
Couple weeks later, a husband and a wife among the volunteering missionaries laid their eyes on this nameless child. They were determined to save his soul, this frail and ambiguous human clay, and mold him as they saw best. They were sure that with a bit of devotion and care, the child would have a future. Then, perhaps the child would stop wailing and wetting his bed every day. The adoption was completed before his baptism, giving him the couple's family name of Sinclair. Then they gave him the name of Donald after they lifted him out of the water. They took little Donald to their home in Georgia and doted on him, their only child.

Georgia was lush and green, and the Sinclairs have moved here from the Midwest for its Baptist values and the warm weather. Their woodland town was a couple miles from Atlanta. Their neighbors, too, were from the church. 

The new family of three lived in one of the condo homes that stood in the grids. The yards were dry but there were trees and rolling hills everywhere. The town population was homogenously wonderbread, with a population of under 10,000.

The Sinclairs went to the church every Sunday and even on the weekdays sometimes. The church ladies gazed upon this small infant, and complimented the parents for providing this child with a future. The people of the town called him Donnie, and he soaked up the world, the dust, and the sunshine around him.  
After they have adopted the boy, they finally began to have other children of their own. After moving to the outskirts of Atlanta, the children each began helping around the homestead as they came to age. Donnie was the eldest, and as he grew, he stood out from the rest of the family. He was less and less of a beloved child, and more of a stranger in their home. His tan skin and dark brown hair were unlike the pale features of the rest of the family. The boy helped raise his 4 younger siblings, who looked up to their eldest brother. There were 2 sisters and 2 brothers. The brother below Donnie, Timothy, doted on him.


End file.
